


An Ongoing Indulgence

by Weldarion



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Casual Sex, F/M, Gen, Non-Canon Relationship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29564295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weldarion/pseuds/Weldarion
Summary: A one-night stand between Weldarion Amara, one of the Warriors of Light, and the Scion Y'shtola Rhul turns more complicated when she is comatosed and her mind transported to the world of Norvrandt for years before they meet again, but for him it has been mere weeks.Set during Shadowbringers, so spoilers for that.
Relationships: Y'shtola Rhul/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	An Ongoing Indulgence

Weldarion stood in the back chamber of the Woven Oath, the home of the Children of the Everlasting Dark. The murals on the rocky walls depicted heroes of bygone eras, and he regarded them with some interest. The others were watching the entrance, and he had taken it upon himself to guard Y’shtola while she inspected the stone monument they had come all this way for. He cast another glance at the murals, then let his gaze fall to the miqo’te sorceress hunched over the stone slab covered in indecipherable writing. Her tail flicked back and forth, and as he studied her, her ears twitched.

“Do I have something on me?” she asked, amusement in her calm voice. He said nothing, prompting her to glance at him over her shoulder, her silver-starred eyes very slightly narrowed. “Your silence might amuse Thancred, but not me.”

“Are we going to talk about what happened?” he asked, his voice echoing slightly in the cavernous space. She stiffened slightly, and turned back to the mural.

“I do not know what you are talking about,” she said, her voice hushed, and then cleared her throat loudly. “On second thought, rather than keeping watch, would you mind examining the murals on these walls while I look over this?”

* * *

_ Weldarion opened his eyes, staring up at the wooden ceiling. The meeting with the Eorzean Alliance had been the previous day, and he could feel the worry over Thancred start filling his mind again, before remembering the night before. He had never been much of a drinker, and after the events in Ishgard, even less so. A fact which brought him much mockery from M’naym, and Thancred, of course. _

_ The previous night had been a sombre affair, with everyone having one or several drinks. They were to meet with Urianger in the morning, but for the evening, they were free to indulge in some debauchery, as it were. Even some who rarely did indulge, such as Weldarion himself, had downed a glass of wine, and another. _

_ His head pounded slightly, abstaining for so long had brought his tolerance to the drink right down, but through it all he could hear a faint rustling. He sat up, and for a heartbeat saw the smooth, naked skin of Y’shtola’s back, before she covered it with her robes. He frowned, his mind racing to recall the previous night’s events. _

_ One after one, the Warriors had retired, as had the Scions, until it had been only him and Y’shtola left. She had been listing Thancred’s faults between drinks, clearly using anger to hide her sorrow. Weldarion had kept her company, and as the old tales go, one thing had led to another. _

_ “Y’shtola-” he began, but she turned a silver eye to him, and shook her head. _

_ “We’re late,” she said, and grabbed her staff as she went to the door. “Hurry up.” _

* * *

Weldarion stood on the shore of the lake, staring into the murky water. The blessing which allowed him and the other Warriors to breathe underwater seemed to have been more of a curse. He did not dislike water, but he did dislike constantly being wet. The others had gone in already, and he would have to join them should he want to avoid more mockery from his friends.

“You hesitate?” Y’shtola asked, stepping up next to him. “Your dislike of water is strong enough to sway you from this task?”

“No,” he said, and sighed. “I’m just collecting my courage.”

“Something you have aplenty,” she said, and giggled softly. “Though, should you need some more, I can abide.”

He frowned, and turned to face her. “How?” he asked right as she stood on her toes, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“We will speak, eventually,” she said, turning away. “This is merely an indulgence.”

Weldarion stood in Y’shtola’s chambers in Slitherbough, frowning at what she was telling him. He was not the expert on aether that Urianger and Y’shtola herself were, but he understood the implications.

“If you begin to feel anything strange - anything at all - pray inform me at once,” she said, giving him a stern look, though he could see worry in her features as well. She looked away from him for a moment, a pensive look on her face. “You must understand that while it has been mere weeks and days for you, it has been years for myself. That night… while not a mistake, it was a lapse in judgement.”

“You regret it?” he asked, crossing his arms, bracing himself for the words. “You regret… us?”

“It is not a matter of regret,” she said, looking down. She was always such an assured person, that it took him slightly aback to see her so uncertain and… vulnerable. “I care for you dearly, perhaps more than I feel I should, however, given our task…”

“You’re worried I’ll fail?” he said quietly, looking away. A worry he carried with him, a worry he had never voiced to any of the Scions, nor his fellow Warriors. A worry that he was not enough. “That I’ll fall?”

“That either of us will, or both,” she said, some of the strength returning to her voice. “You and your band of Warriors may make light of what we face, but I do not.”

“So, you have feelings for me, but you don’t want either of us to get hurt should the other fall,” he said, staring at her. As if he had not felt his heart burst when she had jumped into that abyss mere hours before. He was the shield, there to tank damage for his friends and allies, so he had done what he always did when faced with an enemy; put up his shield. An emotional one, in this case. Like when Minfilia… but that had been different. As Rhylus was fond of saying; no body, no death.

“I am sorry, but it is how things have to be,” she said, turning away from him. “You should hurry, before the others begin to worry. Once I have sorted my things here I will join you.”

Weldarion looked out of the window in his room at the Pendants. He could see flickering lights come from several places in Lakeland, where fires set during the Eulmoran’s Sin Eater invasion had not yet died down or been put out. The returned night sky made them stand out all the more, and he closed his eyes, his thoughts with all those he had failed to save.

Turning away from the horrors of the day, he sighed. In the morning they would leave for Amh Araeng to… He would rather not think about it at the moment. More fighting. More loss. Even if it were by choice, it was still difficult to accept. But who was he to tell Minfilia no?

Stripping out of his armour for the night, placing it where he could get to it easily, he stretched. Some pains made themselves known as he did, and he looked himself in the mirror. His upper body had several bruises, both old and very recent. A fair few were faded yellow, almost gone, but he could see several that were a nasty bright red. He gently touched some of them, and winced.

“No wounds, though,” he muttered to himself, further inspecting his body. Bruises were a part of life, but he knew when there were no broken bones or bleeding wounds that he had fought well. He always refused further healing once he could stand on his own and breathe properly, leaving the healers to tend to those with more serious injuries.

He eventually sat down on the bed, wishing he felt more tired than he did. It had been a long day, but he had long since passed the point of exhaustion. Phattie hopped up onto the bed next to him, purring. He scratched the rotund cat under the chin, and he rolled over. Chuckling, Weldarion scratched Phattie’s belly, until both looked over to the door at the same instance.

The magical cat jumped off the bed and sprinted to the other side of the room, while Weldarion grabbed his sword, his naked feet making no noise as he moved over to the door. Heartbeats later there came a knock from the other side, and he waited a few moments before opening it, keeping his sword out of sight behind the door.

“Hell- oh!” said Y’shtola from the hallway as she noticed his state of dress and his hard expression. “Have I arrived at an inopportune time?”

“Uh, no, not at all,” he said, relaxing slightly. “Let me get dressed and I’ll come help.”

“Help with… what?” she asked, frowning. He stopped a few paces from the door, turning back to her.

“Well, usually when someone comes to my door, they need my help with something,” he said, frowning in confusion. She stared at him for a few moments, before bursting out into a fit of laughter.

“You must live a strange life, Warrior of Darkness,” she said, covering her mouth with her hand as she continued to laugh. He continued to stand there, sword loose in his grip, staring at her with a quizzical expression. When her laughter had petered out, she looked up at him once more, her eyes filled with… something he could not quite identify. “Though I suppose that is part of who you are, isn’t it? Always ready to assist, forever helpful and endlessly patient.”

“I would disagree with anyone having endless patience, me least of all,” he said, feeling slightly embarrassed. “If I don’t help, who will?”

“You- you really believe that, don’t you?” she asked, staring at him intently, her unseeing eyes somehow seeing more than anyone else could. “Even with all your allies and friends?”

“I was raised to always offer help when I could,” he said, feeling defensive. “I can, therefore I will.”

“Well then, I have a task with which you can assist me,” she said, a smile spreading on her lips as she stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “This day has been long and arduous, and I think we are both in need of some… indulgence, are we not?”

“I-” he began to answer, but he could get no further before she was on him with a feral ferocity becoming of her cat-like appearance. His sword dropped to the floor with a clanging sound as he held her tight, their bodies as close as one can be to another person, mouth pressed against mouth.

And they indulged.

Y’shtola studied his profile where he sat on the fence behind the tavern building in Amity. Since her first venture into the Lifestream, and the loss of her regular sight, she had silently despaired at the loss of one of her major senses. It had been since arriving in Norvrandt, and hours of study and practice, that she managed to expand her aether sight to something approximating actual sight.

It was easiest with less transient and mobile things, like rocks, trees, buildings, and less so with people and animals. Most of the people she met were nothing more than their aetheric signature to her, though the more time she spent around them, the more she could  _ see _ . All the Blessed were as colourful and shapely to her sight as they were to anyone else, moreseo even, and since leaving the Greatwoods, her fellow Scions and the Warriors, even with their magnified Light, she could see with more or less perfect clarity.

She sipped on the soup Ryne had handed her, savouring the spices and warmth. Leaning against the side of the tavern, she sighed softly.

She should be focused on the building of the Talos, on making sure her fellows were ready to infuse it with the aether required, and yet her thoughts kept drifting. She stole another glance at Weldarion on his perch, and took another sip.

He was staring into the sunset with a sorrowful and weary expression on his face, no doubt unaware anyone was watching him. She recognised the look from veterans of wars and the Calamity itself, and by all rights; he had seen much in the past few years. He had been reserved even when the Scions first started taking an interest in him, when he had been but one adventure among many in Ul’dah, reluctant to share of himself and his past to anyone but his fellow Warriors, and possibly Minfilia.

Yet, he had been optimistic and hopeful, believing in people, and always ready to help. What he had been put through since then had changed him, made him harder, more cynical, sadder. She could not blame him, but she could worry. He was still unwavering in his faith and belief in people, still wanting to believe in the light and good in the world, but she could tell there was something not quite the same about it.

She took another sip, casting a glance over her shoulder, watching Runar working with the rest of the mages. There were… feelings there, which had started developing in the few months before her leaving. She had not known how long she would spend in the First, and had started entertaining the idea, if only lightly. With the arrival of the Scions and Warriors, she had not wanted to bring it up, especially since she knew she would leave. The past while since then, with the rekindling of her feelings for Weldarion, she was torn.

They were similar in physique to what her tastes leaned towards; heads taller than her, with muscles enough to lift her up with ease, and a striking figure. Runar won out in both height and sheer size, while Weldarion, a Highlander with years of combat experience, had the edge in physical strength. A paladin through and through, he was muscle all the way down, which made him not too shabby to look at with no shirt on.

Yet… there was something about Weldarion that pulled her in, an emotional connection which won out over singular physique. Even with her years spent in the First, he was still more than a decade her senior, and while the grey hairs and wrinkles added to his physical charm, it was hard to ignore the amount of experience which divided them.

Those were all excuses, though, she chided herself. She knew why she did not choose, and why she had offered only indulgences to Weldarion; she was afraid. She knew what real, true intimacy would be, and she feared it. The way Weldarion looked at her made her shiver all the way to the tip of her tail, and made her both want him to hold her, and to run for the nearest hill. She knew she would have to choose a path sooner or later, but she was not ready yet.

“Join me?” Weldarion’s voice cut through her thoughts like a blade, and she blinked, staring over at him. He smiled, and patted the fence next to him.

“Thank you,” she said, joining him on the fence.

“It’s beautiful, don’t you think?” he asked, and nodded towards the orange sky.

“‘tis indeed,” she agreed, sipping on her soup.

“We may be fighting Vauthry tomorrow, but today we can enjoy the sunset without worry,” he said, continuing to stare into the sunset, a half-smile on his lips.

“How do you do that?” she asked, the question leaving her lips before she could stop it.

“Do what?” he asked, frowning.

“Hold on to such optimism even with all the hardships you have endured,” she said, staring at him. His smile faltered, and disappeared, his dark eyes firmly affixed to the horizon.

“I have to,” he said softly. “As a Warrior of Light, or Darkness, I have to maintain hope and believe that things will turn out right with my entire being, or I will stop believing.”

“You are choosing to believe so you can believe?” she asked, frowning.

“If I don’t believe, how will everyone else?” he asked, turning his head to watch her. “How will people be able to put their faith in my shield if I don’t believe I can succeed?”

“So, rather than put on a facade, a mask of belief, you are choosing to believe?”

“Right,” he said, smiling softly at her. “I believed in hope and the strength of men’s hearts through a lense of optimism when this all began.” For a moment he looked more tired and weary than she had ever seen him, and then he straightened his back, returning to normal. “Now, I have to believe or I won’t. Because someone has to, and that someone is me.”

She continued to frown, staring down at the ground. She understood, and yet she did not. It was frustrating, an answer eluding her, and yet… she could accept his words because he had said them.

“Soup?” she asked, the only words she could think of to say, and held up her mug.

**Author's Note:**

> I like Y'shtola; she's probably my favourite of the Scions, and she's the type of woman my character Weldarion would be attracted to: strong, willful, intelligent.
> 
> Unfortunately, when I wrote this I recieved a fair amount of push-back from my friends who I play the game with, as she was clearly interested in Runar. So, in the end, I decided on making this non-canon in my own canon of the game world, but I still like the story, so I decided to post it here to see about some feedback. Thanks for reading, and thanks for any feedback you may leave :D


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